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“Good. Now fuck me again.”
“With pleasure, Princess.”
EPILOGUE
This is not at all how I thought I’d be spending a Friday night, and I have no idea how these fucks talked me into coming here.
I’m not part of a couple. I have no children.
And I absolutely have no desire to watch grown ass adults skate around the ice in costumes.Excuse me—as princesses.
Yet here I am.
I must be out of my goddamn mind.
There are no pucks to hit around, no actual violence. Just some evil witch who does nothing but sing about her troubles.
Yeah, I’m clearly in the wrong place. Well, right place, since this is my arena, but definitely at the wrong time. I can’t even get up and leave because I’m literally surrounded by my teammates.
Of course, they got seats right up front and put me smack dab in the middle.
I swear to God the man dressed as a candle just winked at me.
This is musical hell.
“Look! It’s my favorite princess!” Chloe yells as she jumps up, spilling buttery popcorn all over my suit. My thirteen-thousand-dollar suit.
Fuck. My. Life.
“Come on.” Jazz nudges me from my other side. “Loosen up a little. What else would you be doing tonight? Going home to the guest house outside Dad’s big empty house and watching clips from yesterday's games?”
Yes, that’s exactly what I would be doing. Where I could sit on my own fucking couch and drink fucking bourbon and not get covered in fucking buttery popcorn. Oh, and not be surrounded by screaming children.
“And what’s wrong with that?” I brush the popcorn off my pants, trying to ignore the butter spots on my thigh.
“Nothing if you want to be a single, lonely bachelor all your life.”
“I happen to like my life. And I never said I was lonely.”
“You don’t have to.”
Chloe jumps up again, cheering louder than before, and here comes some more damn popcorn. I think Tag sat her next to me on purpose. Just wait till their next practice. I’ll make sure Coach Weller pays extra attention to him.
“Do you want some?” Lincoln leans over Jazz and trusts a buttery bag my way, a smug smile on his face.
He’ll get extra attention too.
“As the team captain, it would be a real shame to have you out with broken fingers.”
Lincoln slowly retreats back behind my sister and sinks down in his chair. Smart man.
“Really?” Jazz tosses me a disapproving look, and I hate to tell her, but I got enough of those from our old man that I’m desensitized.
“What?” I shrug. “Not my fault your boyfriend is trying to rile me up with the popcorn that’s clearly all over my pants.”
“You could have worn normal clothes.”
“These arenormalclothes.”
